


The Gotham Identity Parade

by ariadne83



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon levels of violence, Child Abuse, Gen, Homelessness, Neglect, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 13:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne83/pseuds/ariadne83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason chose his real name from a story book, which is fitting in a town where everyone seems to want to remake themselves. He's fending for himself and doing just fine, thanks - he's eight whole years old - when a chance meeting with Batman sets his world askew. Maybe in a good way? Jason is reserving judgment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gotham Identity Parade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [somehowunbroken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/gifts).



> Credit, as always, goes to somehowunbroken for audiencing my insanity and encouraging my rampant plotbunnies.
> 
> Full warnings/content notes are at the bottom of the page, but basically expect canon levels of utter failure at parenting and kids slipping through the cracks, with the associated unpleasant results.

Jason chose his real name from a book of mythology, coffee-stained and torn just like everything was after a day in their house. He hated that he'd have to take the book back to school, have to show the librarian what had happened. He fucking hated that his Dad ruined everything, spilled his drinks on everything by reaching for them with shaky, careless hands. The man in the book, that Jason, didn't have a Dad to worry about. He got to sail away and be someone else, be someone greater than who he used to be. He killed monsters and found treasure, and not even the Sirens could take him down.

Dad said it was smart, having a fake street name to give the cops. And he nodded in approval when Jason kept his hair short, stole shirts three sizes too big from the clothing bins, and never wore anything but ratty sneakers on his feet.

"Less hassle if they think you're a boy."

But that wasn't it. Dad's approval made his skin itch, made their already tiny apartment feel like a goddamn coffin. Because Jason didn't feel like he was pretending; he didn't feel like he was someone else, hiding from the world beneath a costume. He felt... real. And a little wriggly, like he was breaking in a new pair of jeans that would fit perfectly sometime soon. And he knew there were other people like him, too. He knew that Two-Face got mad if you called him Harvey because that wasn't his real name anymore. And the Joker didn't have any other name - not one that anybody remembered. Gotham was a parade of people who had to dress up to find out who they really were, and Jason felt right at home on its streets.

So he just didn't go back to the apartment sometimes. He'd pick pockets just like Dad taught him and then go buy pizza or play the arcades, sometimes even get ice cream for free by sniffling over his dead mama. He knew that if it was late enough when he snuck in Dad would be passed out anyways, and Jason could slip a twenty into his wallet. Pretend that was all he had. Dad would be too drunk to remember he hadn't counted Jason's stash and any extra money would make him happy. (He would notice the extra for sure; no matter how wasted he got Dad always remembered if he had enough for cigarettes.)

He did try to go to school most of the time - well, sometimes - because Dad didn't like being woken up by phone calls from the principal, and because school was one of the few things he remembered Mama talking about before things got bad. But school was boring, and the asshole teachers insisted on calling him Dahlia - like that pretty girl Jason read about on the computer, who got cut in half. The girls made fun of his hair, and the boys wouldn't play with him 'cause they were scared Jason would out-run them. It was dumb, and nobody wanted to use his real name, and Jason could be out getting money. So most of the time he did, ditching at lunch time or just not going at all, and hiding from the cops in Crime Alley 'cause Bullock had a thing about truancy.

"Wasting our taxes on scum who don't even _want_ to read a book," the bastard said one time, when he tried to stick Jason in his squad car. Jason had elbowed him in the stomach and run for it, because hey! He read books when he could get 'em. It was just that his library privileges kept getting revoked. 'Cause of Dad, not that Jason would ever tell anyone. Todds didn't squeal. He'd earned a nickel from Two-Face himself when he was four, for not telling him one thing about Dad's night time job. "Loyal brat" had sounded like a compliment then. Jason wasn’t so sure anymore, now that he was eight whole years old, but he still had that nickel.

And he didn't have to hide the nickel from Dad anymore, because Dad was gone. He just didn't come home one day, and kept not coming home until Mr. Leary changed the locks and Jason had to break in, get his things, and go stay somewhere else. He didn't know if he was supposed to worry about Dad, or if he'd just done what he always said he'd do some day: gone somewhere Jason couldn't be a thorn in his side. No point asking the policemen, because either they knew and they didn't mind, or they _would_ mind and Jason'd have to go to that stinky cesspit of a foster home again. It was dusty and it smelled like lilies and it made Jason sneeze. And he didn't want to be Dahlia anymore, especially if Dad wasn't going to come rescue him after a week.

At least now he didn't have to go to school. On good days he watched, and when someone was dumb enough to leave their window ajar he jimmied it open, raided their fridge, and maybe slept for a while if they'd gone to work. He was good at finding hiding spots to spend the night, places so dark and disused no-one ever knew he was there even when they came home. Christmas was especially good, because people went away and Jason could stay someplace nice for more than one night. On not-so-good days he fought other boys for a spot under a tarp, and on bad days he lost. But there was almost always at least a little money. Dumbass rich folks kept stumbling by in a rush, and didn't even blink when Jason handed them back their wallets and said they dropped them.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes the older boys got caught by Batman and Robin; Clarence lost a tooth, Fred broke his wrist running away, and Joe almost lost an eye. It was their own fucking fault for being flashy or greedy, or too damn sure of themselves. If they were dumb enough to invite attention, Jason had no problem raiding their stashes. He learned how to duck and dodge - and when to cut and run - from those boys, pissy when they got out of lockup and their stuff was gone.

Sometimes Jason wasn't so lucky, and he wound up with a split lip. Other times... _This_ time, Clarence had twisted his arm up his back until he promised to make it right, promised to help him get back at "the Bat freak." Which was how Jason, who would _never_ be dumb enough to jack the Batmobile, duh, had wound up here. _In_ the Batmobile, with Batman creepy-staring at him like Scarecrow. Jason hadn't sucked dick for money yet, but he knew the look anyhow. Had to, to know who to avoid: basically any guy who looked at Jason like he was the most interesting thing ever. Like he was a butterfly on a pinboard.

He lifted his chin and reached for the door handle. Locked, of course it was locked, and to get to the button he'd have to lean into Batman's reach. _Perfect._ "I don't do freebies."

Batman's mouth tightened at the corners. "What?"

"Try Julio, two blocks down. He doesn't even bite."

"I don't want him."

Jason's chest tightened, and he couldn't help breathing faster. "Sure you do. I'm not even a 'real' boy." _Please, please, let me go. I'm not what you really want, please, don't..._

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to do anything to you, I just-"

"Want to talk? Yeah, Scarecrow uses that line too. Ask Fred how that goes." _Or maybe not, since he broke his damn arm trying to get away from you_ , Jason couldn’t help but think.

"You tried to vandalize my car. I'd just like to know why you want my attention."

Oh. OK, so maybe that did make sense, but Jason was still not moving away from the door. He'd break a window if he had to. "I-" he started, but no, he couldn't squeal on Clarence. Chances were Jason'd be back out here sooner or later, and if he got a rep as someone who tattled to Batman he was as good as dead. "It was a dare."

"A dare," Batman repeated flatly.

"Yeah. Plus anything _you_ own has to be worth something, right?"

"Right," Batman echoed, again, and wow, was this how he got people to talk? By bouncing their words back at them? Lame. "Where are your parents?" he continued, in that same flat gravelly voice. Jason could barely tell it was a question.

"Dead, I think. Gone. I don't know."

Batman breathed in sharply, which was very weird. "What's your case file number?"

No. No way in hell, Jason was _not_ going back in the system. He wasn’t Dahlia, not anymore. He lunged for the door lock on the centre console, jammed his thumb down on it and yanked the door handle. Nothing happened; he was fucking kiddie-locked into the Batmobile. He crashed an elbow into the passenger window, which did nothing except hurt like hell and make him bounce off. Reinforced glass, of-fucking-course.

"Calm _down_ ," Batman ordered, in the least calming voice Jason'd heard in a long time.

"Screw you." He balled his hand into a fist - maybe if he punched hard enough Batman wouldn't be able to stop him from hitting the button for the electric windows - but no, his swing didn't even land. Batman's fingers curled around his hand, loose but with the promise of force behind them.

"If you don't tell me I can't help you."

"Who says I want you to help?"

Batman cocked his head. "You don't strike me as stupid or uncalculating. So why did you take the dare?"

Why didn't he stomp on Clarence's foot, elbow him in the nuts, and run for it? Because...

"I'm tired." To his horror, Jason's voice came out wobbly. And his eyes stung. Damnit, of all the fucking people, he had to cry like a whiny little baby in front of _Batman_.

"I know a place you can rest." Just like that, he let go of Jason's hand and put on his seat belt. Then he sat, staring straight ahead instead of starting the engine. Waiting.

Jason sniffed hard. He scrubbed at his eyes. His chest hurt, so he curled over, tucking his hands against his stomach. He didn't need anyone. He was _fine_ ; he could handle himself. Just, he was so tired. And Clarence saw him get bundled into the car. How was he supposed to explain? How was he supposed to make up for it? If he came back tomorrow, he could tell everyone he got pinched. He could tell them Batman got him sent to juvie. He could save face.

"OK," he said in the smallest voice he could manage; he wasn’t going to make this easy.

Batman cleared his throat but didn't move; Jason rolled his eyes and snapped on his seat belt. "So, are you taking me to your _secret lair_?"

"That depends: can I trust you?"

Jason snorted; he couldn't help himself. It'd been a long time since an adult even suggested there might be more going on behind his baby blues than meets the eye. "With what?"

Batman turned his head and stared him down. "With my life."

He... Was he fucking serious? Jason swallowed hard, really thought about it, and then nodded. "I'm not a squealer."

Batman smiled, just a little - the corner of his mouth tipped up a half-inch. "Good enough for me."

He turned over the engine, pressed a button, and fired fucking _jets_ or something.

"Whoa!" This car was the _coolest_. Jason gripped the front of his seat with both hands, and grinned so wide his face hurt. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> On-screen: transphobia/ignorance of trans issues; child abuse - neglect and financial exploitation; violence between children; excessive force/violence against adolescents; perceived threat of rape. 
> 
> References to: rape, pedophilia, child prostitution.
> 
> In other words, it's Gotham. Most of this is canon.


End file.
